


Broken Souls

by phantomlistener



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomlistener/pseuds/phantomlistener
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 8x01. Ros turns up at Ruth's door and together they realise that, with this job, some feelings are universal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Souls

It was gone eleven, so the sharp knock on Ruth's door was unexpected. Standing up, she set down her third glass of wine of the evening and went to open it, analysing dispassionately as she did so the probability of it being more kidnappers.

Of course, kidnappers didn't tend to knock.

Ros Myers did. "May I come in?"

Ruth stepped aside and closed the door behind her. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

She hesitated before accepting and sitting in the chair opposite Ruth's, looking around the room with a careful eye. "Looks like my place," she said dryly. "Empty."

Ruth handed her a glass of wine and sat down. "Yes, I suppose it is."

They studied each other silently, judging, waiting.

"I told you once that I never apologise." Ros' face was impassive, the firelight playing over its contours like sunlight on hewn granite. "But I'm sorry."

"It was never your fault, Ros." Ruth shook her head. "But thank you."

"George," Ros said in to the silence, and noted the flicker of pain in her companion's eyes. "Did you love him?"

"Yes," she replied simply. "And Adam?"

There was a corresponding expression in the blonde's eyes. "Yes." She laughed bitterly. "Sometimes."

"He asked me to marry him."

Ros raised her head. "What did you say?"

"No."

"Why?"

Gripping the stem of her wine glass tightly, Ruth hesitated as she considered her response. "He was wonderful," she said eventually. "Sweet, attentive, intelligent, and, I think, in love with me. I just don't think I was in love with him." She blinked back tears. "And for that, he died."

"Bloody men." Ros gulped the rest of her wine. "Can't even time their deaths right." The empty glass remained poised halfway between her lips and lap. "Screw the lot of them, I say."

"Perhaps not all of them," Ruth said with a laugh.

"Become a field agent and you might have to."

There was a momentary silence.

"Ros–"

"No." She grabbed the wine bottle and poured another glass. "It's nothing." The liquid went straight down her throat in one graceful movement and for a second she looked small and fragile, dwarfed by the big red armchair. But she flashed a hollow, frigid smile and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I thought you and Harry might pick up where you left off," she said in a controlled voice.

"Harry?" There was a wealth of emotion in that one word alone. "We have the shadow of death between us, now."

"Guilt," Ros asserted.

" _What's in a name?_ The fact is that George died because I came back. Because of Harry and I. There are some things you just can't fix."

"Adam died because of me," Ros said, sudden vulnerability in her voice.

Ruth said nothing.

"I spoke to him. Distracted him. Maybe those few seconds would have given him the time he needed – maybe I should have just let him go – maybe he'd be here if I –" She broke off, digging the heels of her hands in to her eyes.

At that gesture, Ruth was at her side in a second, a hand on her arm. "I know you're strong," she said softly. "We're both strong."

"Both broken."

"But sometimes, Ros, it's okay to be weak."

She turned to look at her companion, a single tear tracing its way down an icy cheek. "Do you expect me to break down and weep like some lost child?" she asked acerbically.

Ruth almost smiled. "Of course not." She looked over at the empty bottles of wine in front of the fireplace. "But...sometimes I think us broken souls should stick together."

"Excuse me if I don't share your optimism. I've got to go." She stood abruptly, and Ruth realised she hadn't even removed her coat. "I can show myself out."

She was standing in the open doorway when she turned. "Thanks," she said simply. And then she was gone.

Ruth poured herself another glass of wine.


End file.
